


We, As the Ocean

by AwayLaughing



Series: Arafinwean Week 2019 [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arafinwean Week 2019, Boats and Ships, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Not Beta Read, Romantic Fluff, Valinor, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwayLaughing/pseuds/AwayLaughing
Summary: ...because the ocean is endless.Eärwen returns from a sailing ship to a surprise - one that begets more surprises still.





	We, As the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Arafinwean week everyone!

It took Eärwen three days to learn that Arafinwë was in Alqualondë. Admittedly, she hadn’t been home when he arrived – but it galled her that no one had told her he was here.

“Well,” he father said, “because he’s not here. And I thought he’d written to tell you he was coming.”

He had not, which chaffed almost as much as the conspiracy of silence perpetuated by her parents. “He wrote only with news, Fëanáro has had another son,” she said. Her parents nodded, as no doubt his highness had already written to inform them of another grandson. “And what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He want to the old Isle,” her mother said, barely looking up from her embroidery. “Really dear, we had no idea you didn’t know. He’ll be back tomorrow evening, we’ll have a good supper arranged for him.”

Eärwen wished she were young enough she could pout, but she wasn’t. 55 wasn’t impressive, certainly but it was old _enough_ to be expected to act like an adult, if not be treated as one. So she took a breath. “Very well,” she said, and then, just to show them she _was_ feeling a bit surly, she did not kiss either on the cheek as she walked out.

Nor did she see her mother immediately switch out her embroidery circle.

* * *

In truth, keeping herself in a snit was actually a lot of work, and after she was a bit to harsh with Lúnettë, she decided she ought to just let it go. Her family was _not_ malicious after all. It did make supper more pleasant, and by dessert Lúnettë had stopped pouting and was happily regaling her with tails of her new horse.

But letting it go meant admitting she was hurt, once supper was done and she was alone with her thoughts. Why would Arafinwë not at least tell her he would be around? He’d known she was to be away a week, _finally_ trusted as first mate on one of the mapping boats. Had he come specifically so he wouldn’t run into her? The idea stung, and made her curl up on herself, curling her blanket into her as if it could offer comfort. Outside her window, the stars shone, barely impacted by Telperion’s shine. Further south, it disappeared entirely and it was odd to look up at a star of only skies. She’d found, actually, she missed the faint silver glow that peeked from behind the mountains.

Just as she was now missing Arafinwë. Which was silly, she told herself. They spent far more time apart than together, and he was usually much further than Tol Eressëa. It seemed lonelier still, that he should be so close and yet sundered from her. _Voluntarily._

“Eärwen?” Lúnettë’s voice cut through the darkness. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she said, because there was no way her sister hadn’t heard her tossing and turning just then. “Why are you?”

“Because I know you were sad about Arvo not telling you he was coming,” Lúnettë said, creeping into the room. Without asking permission, once she reached the bed she crawled into it, curling up with Eärwen. “I think he was sad about something too though, and maybe he just needed to think.”

“I suppose Tirion is awfully crowded,” Eärwen said.

“His _house_ is crowded,” Lúnettë corrected. “All his sisters are still at home.”

“Yes all two,” Eärwen said, “coming here would be no better.”

“We have the sea,” Lúnettë said with authority, “so it’s _always_ better.”

Eärwen chuckled. “Too true,” she said. “Are you staying the night?”

“No, I just wanted to give you a hug,” Lúnettë said, “and to make you happier. Though you _could_ tell me a story before I go.”

“Could I,” Eärwen said, laughing softly. “Very well then – how about I tell you of my travels? I have a very good story about a goat.”

“Oh yes,” Lúnettë said, sitting up and audibly clasping her hands. “Goats _always_ make for good stories.”

* * *

Laurelin’s return to duty did not have much impact on the Teleri, other than as a signal to walk the quays and sail the sea once more. Eärwen did find that things seemed lighter somehow – perhaps she thought her foul mood was in part just homesickness that hadn’t flared until she returned. That, or her heart had come to peace that letter writing might not have been enough to keep dear friends as such. Good friends, she reasoned as she stepped into the salon her parents used to break the fast, was surely just as good.

Her resolve lasted exactly as long as it took her to spot the golden head seated at the table, which was all of three seconds.

“Arv- Arafinwë,” she said, trying and failing to contain her surprise. “You’re here!” _And so grown,_ which she bit her tongue to keep from saying.

Which of course he was, she thought, marvelling at the difference even a fraction of a yén made. He’d grown taller, something that was visible even seated on a pillow as was their custom, and his hair was longer. Instead of the gentle curls and delicate braids she remembered, he’d tied it back into a single tail, which made his broad cheekbones and large blue eyes all the more obvious.

He looked...well he looked an adult. Which, she supposed he was only three star-cycles from being 50. In her bind he had still been the gangling, wild haired boy who could run for hours – and oh she felt a pang to think she might never see him again, though she could hardly say she disliked the new Arafinwë in front of her.

“We came in early,” Arafinwë said, grinning widely at her. He looked pleased, she thought.

“Oh I had no idea, I’d have dressed appropriately,” she said, looking down at her bare feet and pulling her dressing gown a touch tighter.

“Do not fuss on my account,” he said, “though if you are uncomfortable-”

“Nonesense,” said her mother, who’s expression was suspiciously serene. “You’ve already slept in, you will miss all the good conversation if you leave and come back.”

“Besides,” Lúnettë said, “I’m only in _my_ gown – and Arvo’s still dressed in his sailing clothes.”

Eärwen barely took note of that – the wrinkled linen shirt, the sturdy woolen pants – too distracted by the revelation she was late to the meal. “I over slept nearly three quarter hours,” she said. “Has father gone already!”

“Just out for his morning sail. Travelling both refreshes and wearies any soul,” her mother said.

“Father told us to leave you,” Lúnettë helpfully translated. “And father said he’ll take lunch with you.”

“Oh,” she said, somewhat mollified. Tomorrow she was restart her tradition of early mornings and heading out onto the water with father before they started their work.

“It’s just as well,” Lúnettë continued, “we can spend time with Arvo!”

“I imagine I have work that’s been waiting for me,” Eärwen said, and immediately caught Arafinwë’s smile dimming slightly. “Not that I wish to do that over spend time with a very dear friend!” she said, “it’s only just...” she pettered off, resisting the urge to stuff a scone into her mouth so she couldn’t make it any worse. When had she become so easy to fluster, she wondered.

“No no I understand,” he said. “It’s only – well I rather wanted to show you something. After breakfast,” his eyes darted around the room. “All of you that is, I showed the king earlier.”

“Did you bring us gifts from the Lonely Isle?” mother asked, eyes dancing. Eärwen cocked her head, curious.

“In a sense, yes,” Arafinwë said. He _did_ actually take a bite of scone, clearly signaling he would say no more. Lúnettë sighed dramatically.

“Oh always you lot and your secrets,” she said, “very well, be that way goldo.”

Arafinwë shot her a look that was, thankfully, some breed of amused. “You make it sound like a bad thing,” he said.

“No no, it’s very charming,” her sister assured him. She tried to look cheerful and innocent, but she had never met a guileless expression she couldn’t ruin, and so the mischief was clear in her smile. Across the table, Eärwen caught Arafinwë’s eyes as they shared mutual looks of fondness. It lasted a little long, she might admit, but only because she was trying to think of which flower his eyes reminded her of.

* * *

Breakfast meandered along, all of them taking time to catch up. As they talked, Eärwen lost more and more of her strange anxiety. Arafinwë was grown, yes, but he was no different from his letters and his occasional visit. While it surprised still how much could change in 8 years – when in truth so very little seemed to change in Alqualondë – none of that change was fundamental.

“I admit, I don’t expect any awe,” Arafinwë said as he lead them down the docks. “But I am rather proud of myself all the same – feel free to give pointers.”

“You’ve been equivocating for five minutes now Arvo,” her mother said, laughter in her voice. “Am I to think it’s because your surprise is that newest addition to the docks?”

Eärwen only took a moment to figure out what her mother meant – at the end of the quay, bobbing along happily, was a new and unpainted skiff.

“You built a boat!” she said, and, forgetting herself entirely, surged past him to go investigate. It was a flat bottom, sharp nosed boat. Clearly for coastal journies, but she could hardly expect him to produce something capable of crossing the great wide sea on his first time. “Oh it’s darling,”she said. “Did you do this all by yourself?”

“No, I had help,” Arafinwë said, standing nervously behind them. “I know it’s not much but um,” he cut himself off with an uncharacteristic noise. Eärwen looked up – and found he was looking right at her. “I wanted to give it a try,” he said, a little lamely.

“Well it’s very cute,” she said. “You had Calceleno with you, yes? I recognize some of his quirks.”

“I did yes,” Arafinwë said. “It won’t go out into the sea of course, but she’s good for the coast. Or rivers, I suppose.”

“Never underestimate a good river boat,” Eärwen said, thinking of her river-travelling kin and their flat bottomed barges. As foreign to her as a mountain, nearly. “Doesn’t she have a name?”

“Ah,” Arafinwë said. “Well we didn’t have any paint, as you can see, but no. Not yet anyway.”

“No?” she asked, and turned to ask if her mother had any ideas of what might be a good name for Arafinwë’s first boat – and froze, realizing neither she nor Lúnettë were here. Indeed, their quay was entirely deserted save for them. “Hh,” she rallied, “why not?”

“Well I was...hoping you would name it?” he said, only it was more like a question.

“But it’s your boat,” she said. He caught her eye, and held it, so she saw him square his shoulders.

“Indeed, I made it. However, I was hoping it would be our boat,” he said. “I know a ring is more traditional, but you never wear any jewellery really and you do love boats.”

“A ring,” she repeated, “Arvo – are you proposing to me?”

“I’ve spoken to my father and yours,” he said, “I know I’m not yet fifty but-”

She did not let him finish, rushing to throw herself into his arms. “You made me a boat,” she said. “And here I have nothing for you!”

“Nothing?” he asked. “I would settle for an answer.”

“Oh but I’ve given it!” she cried, pulling away to look him in the face. She was too full up to explain really – of all his letters, tied together in golden ribbon and re-read. Of long nights spent getting her words just perfect- of the crushing fear he’d moved on. Of the chest-bursting joy that he had, but simply to a new stage of _them_. All these thoughts ran together and clogged up her vocal chords. So instead she said:

“You made me a _boat_.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is _incredibly_ ridiculous and self indulgent - but I hope you enjoy! I wrote this all in a rush, so forgive any mistakes. As the tag often goes - no beta, we die like men ;)


End file.
